


"Yer beautiful, mate"

by darkgreenwater



Category: Trainspotting (Movies), Trainspotting Series - Irvine Welsh
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, basically the way irvine would write it i guess, blowjobs but its not porn, without any appeal to it that is, written in mark's speech pattern
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:20:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21922081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkgreenwater/pseuds/darkgreenwater
Summary: Sick Boy and Rents shoot up, and it ends in messy, pathetic blowjobs.
Relationships: Mark "Rent Boy" Renton/Simon "Sick Boy" Williamson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 48





	"Yer beautiful, mate"

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly this is left undone but so is their relationship so that's only fitting if you ask me. 
> 
> (If you've seen this fic before: I submitted it to the tumblr blog "sickrent")

His real name is Simon. Ah dinnae mind when ah first started callin um “Sick Boy” or if ah was even the one whae started it. Could be – n is mair likely – that everyone else did it before me and ah jist picked up oan it. But ah’ve grown tae like it over time. Or, git used tae it, at least. Sick Boy himself no so much.   
He calls ays the “Rent Boy” whenever he’s tryin tae agitate ays. It worked at first but ah’ve realized that he only does it tae git a reaction oot of me, so ah stopped acting like it bothered me. Ah mention that because he hasn’t addressed ays as such in days –   
“Hey, Rent boy!”  
Ah roll ma eyes but he disnae notice from his place on the floor across the room. The needle still sticks in his arm n he is slouched against the wall. His eyes are all out of focus. His jeans are pulled over his arse and barely cover the front.  
Ah ken whit’s comin.   
It’s been like this befir, a couple times, when he didnae git his rocks oaf goin intae the next kick. He wis all drugged oot and could barely move or talk properly. His dick wis limp and he wouldnae be able tae git it up. But even wi the heroin burstin through his veins, the heroin that’s a thousand times more satisfying that any orgasm in the world could be, even like this he’s still horny. Sick Boy is sick, aw aye. Sick wi drugs, riddled wi sex addiction.   
Ah dinnae say anything, ah jist stare at him. Mind ye, ah’m high masel n ma lamps keep rollin back intae ma heid; Ah try ma hardest tae stay focused oan the target as ah begin tae crawl towards um. Realistically speaking, he’s only a couple meters awae, a distance ah should be able to cross in seconds – on heroin, though, this is a real act of strength and willpower. Can ah really be arsed? Nae, but ah dae it anyway. Why ah dinnae ken. Fir a second ah think ah might be in love with um but the skag replaces the chemicals in yer brain and makes ye believe all sorts oaf things. One time ah git so paranoid, ah saw the groond opening and skeletons comin oot tae haunt ays.  
Probably an eternity later ah finally arrive at his feet n grab them tae pill masel up n next to him. Ah copy his position n slouch doon against the wall as well. Ugly, nicotine-stained flower wallpaper fae the Seventies surrounds us n threatens tae swallow us whole. The first few times ah tripped in this room, ah wis deid-scared oaf bein eaten alive by they piss-ugly flowers. By now ah wid probably welcome it.   
Ma airm moves, aw on its oan, n like a snake it slithers toward Sick Boy, ower him, sending its heid – ma hand – intae his pants n biting what it finds.  
Ah dinnae think ah’ve ivir given a lazier, slower handjoab in ma entire life, yet Simon moans n writhes as if it wis the best experience in the world. The heroin surely helps - sends his nervous system intae overload, flings his spine intae outer space and has aw its galaxies n stars n planets n whatnot crash-landing intae the pit of his stomach when he eventually cums, hard, shootin off like a rocket. Even ah'm amazed.   
In oor haze we dinnae realize thit this must've been the most pathetic looking sexual performance anyone had ever seen.   
The constant up and doon oaf ma airm tired ays oot so much thit ah fall asleep instantly after, as dis Sick Boy. Only when we wake up again dae ah manage tae retrieve ma hand from his cock, quite as if it had turned intae a snake as well and bit ays. Ah didnae even think it possible tae move that fast while oan skag.   
Ah can still feel it boiling in ma blood now, but less so than it did when ah first shot it intae my vein earlier this morning. 

He's decided tae repay ays. Good, only fair. He’s aw oan ays, slobberin awae like a lassie, ken. Feels sortay great n aw, too, ah cannae shake the feelin but. Ah’m watchin his heid move n it’s too much tae deal wi. Suddenly he looks up at ays, eyes as big as spotlights, pupils fully blown. N ah dinnae ken whit it is, then, but something inside me moves and ah think, Sick Boy wid make a fine lassie, aye. Ah sais, Yer beautiful, mate, but he disnae hear – his eyes ur doon again, n ah kin tell the skag drowns oot iviry possible sound. Ah didnae want tae say it again, ah felt like a right cunt jist thinkin aboot it, but he had tae hear it, he jist had tae. Ah kent he needed tae hear something heartfelt, like, n ah needed tae be the one tae tell um.


End file.
